Page 161 of Feathers of Ash and Hope

“Don’t you dare, sunshine,” he growls against my sensitive flesh. “No holding back. I want to hear what I do to you!” His voice, his words send shock waves through me, heightening the tension impossibly more.

“But we are…” I start and end in a moan when he sucks my clit again. He fucks me with his tongue, then slides it up over the sensitive bundle of nerves again and again.

And just like that, I’m too far gone to think about anything as mundane as where we are right now. I’m lost in the sensation, chasing after the high that lures me.

My whimpers and moans mixed with nonsensical half sentences fill the room, while the crest comes closer and closer.

I arch into him, and stars explode behind my eyes as the tension shatters into waves of pleasure rolling over me, dragging me under, sweeping me away. My inner muscles clench and unclench, desperate for something to squeeze around.

I’m a shuddering, panting, limp mess sprawled out over the table when Tate pulls me up against his chest. His gloriously naked chest.

I have no idea when he got rid of his uniform, but damn, do I approve.

“So fucking beautiful,” he rumbles before he claims my mouth in a hungry kiss, and I can taste myself on his tongue. “I could watch you come all day.”

“Wish granted,” I mumble against his lips, making him chuckle.

“Oh, I’m far from done with you yet.”

But I already know since his throbbing hardness presses against me, demanding attention.

“I have this for you.” He slips a chain over my head, and I recognize his magic instantly. “I know the regular ones probably don’t work on you, and I thought maybe…” His magic settles over my womb, and it doesn’t need more than a calming thought to stop my magic from unraveling it.

“You made that for me.” I beam up at him. “Thank you.” He looks adorably relieved at my reaction.

His healing training must have been extensive if he can even do contraceptive charms, and once more I wonder about his past and why he didn’t become a healer. But now is not the moment for questions.

I pull him down for a hungry kiss and widen my legs, inviting him.

“Tell me what you want,” Tate whispers against my lips, and I grin at him wickedly before I obey.

“I want you to fuck me, Tate,” I say, and my grin widens when his cock twitches at my words. “I want to feel you slide into me, stretch me, fill me…” That is as far as I get before his mouth claims mine again, and then he complies, pushing into me in one hard thrust.

I groan into his mouth, panting around this sudden overwhelming fullness, struggling to adjust while pleasure surges up my spine.

Tate releases my lips.

“Fuck, are you good?” he asks, searching my eyes.

I nod, and even this slight movement causes me to clench around him. He squeezes his eyes shut.

“Fuck, sunshine.” He groans, visibly fighting for control, resting his head against mine, his chest heaving. I run my fingers through his hair, reveling in the sensation of our connection. He looks at me, and the fire in his eyes, the need for me written all over his face, has me swallowing.

“Brace your hands on the table,” he orders, and when I do, he starts to move. Slow, powerful thrusts that have sparks running through me.

“You feel so fucking good,” Tate mutters in my ear, and the pleasure in his voice makes mine burn brighter.I moan in pleasure, and he drinks the sound of my lips.

His lips, his fingers, his magic trail over me. He caresses my back, my hips, my throat, my breasts, and I gasp when he pulls one of the aching peaks into his mouth.

Tension coils with every thrust and drag of him inside me, building up higher and higher while Tate increases the tempo.

My thighs tremble, and I know I’m getting close. Tate’s hips snap faster, his sounds of pleasure mixing with mine.

“Come for me, sunshine.”

His growled demand pushes me over the edge. I yell his name. Lightning surges through me, releasing in an explosion of pleasure while I clamp down hard, rippling and throbbing around him. The wind whips around us, rattling the boxes and maps, catching in my hair, the strands lashing our skin and my eyes fly open. Tate’s eyes are on me, his expression caught somewhere between awe and shock.

“Fuck. Ara,” he groans my name while he pulses inside me. His head falls to my shoulder, and I hold on to him while he continues to shake.

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